The End of A
by daemaree
Summary: Alfred F. Jones, a homeless boy that lives in a van, discovers one morning that a strange British man has been following him. Alfred dismisses him as a crazy stalker, but the man carries a warning: Alfred is in danger! Is Alfred's entire world about to shatter, and could this strange man be his only ally? Or, could this stranger himself be the end of Alfred?
1. Chapter 1

Alfred F. Jones was already awake by the time his cellphone alarm went off. He reached a hand under his pillow and silenced the phone. That morning was particularly cold, and all the 19 year old wanted was a scalding shower. Unfortunately, that hot shower was a 10 minute drive away, 20 if you added the time it took to defrost Liberty.

Alfred lived in a van; an old, "I can't believe this thing is still running" sort of van that he had originally bought for $300 off craigslist. At the time, it wasn't working. For a little bit of pocket change, he extracted a working transmission from another dead vehicle... and voila! Alfred had somehow managed to keep the van running for over a year now, with only a few hiccups along the way. He was proud of his franken-van which he had lovingly nicknamed Liberty.

His dog, Tony, shifted under the covers. Tony moved his head to rest on Alfred's body as if to say, "Don't move! I'm comfortable!" Alfred scratched behind Tony's ears.

"Sorry boy... we gotta get up."

Tony whined.

"I know! It sucks!" Alfred rolled over and wrapped his arms around the surprised dog and pulled him into a tight squeeze. "Someday, we're gonna live like kings."

Alfred sucked in a deep breath and quickly tossed the mountain of blankets to the side, exposing both of them to the dangerous early morning chill. He let go a string of curses as he fumbled his way to the driver's seat, turning the keys in the ignition. Liberty hesitated, engine refusing to work.

"Come on baby..." Al twisted the keys again and pumped the breaks, this time, Liberty sputtered on.

It hadn't snowed overnight, but the windows were caked in ice, both inside and out. Inside, because of condensation from his breath. It was fine. The frost created a wall of privacy at night that gave him slight peace of mind.

Al pulled on his gloves, grabbed his ice scraper, and hurried out of Liberty into the freezing hell of January. He chisled away at the ice as quickly as possibly. He had parked overnight at an apartment complex, right in front of a sign that clearly stated "Resident Parking Only". Alfred had reasoned that if the residents expected the parking lot to be for residents only, they would certainly never suspect anyone SLEEPING there. Genius.

A violent shiver crept though his body, and the crisp air stung his nose, forcing Al to hold in a sneeze. Liberty had way too many windows, so Al had resigned himself to only scraping away ice at the most important spots. His boots crunched over the snow as he hurried to the back of Liberty. Al could feel his feet slipping out from under him. Without thought, he threw out his hand trying to catch himself on the van, but instead, his weight pushed him into the van, jamming his hand underneath his body. A jeering pain shot though his knees as he landed hard on the ice.

Al laid on his stomach in shock. He stared at the dirty ice underneath him, let out a breath, and propped himself up against Liberty.

"Pretty nasty fall there, Lad."

Al shot his head up to look for the strange, voice. An English accent? His blurry eyes struggled in the dim light.

"Are you okay?" The voice was low and even, but betrayed a hint of concern. Alfred looked up to the second floor of the apartments. There, a smallish man stood on the balcony, leaning forward into the rail with his weight placed on his forearms. A freshly lit cigarette hung loosely from between his fingers.

"Oh yeah... I'm fine. Just a little shocked, is all." Alfred stood, his pride a little wounded. Al reached forward to pick up the ice scraper that he had dropped earlier and continued to scrape away the ice off Liberty, moving awkward and almost robotic knowing that someone was watching him. The man stood silently on the balcony, staring at him, taking an occasional drag of his cigarette, the polluted scent, of which, had finally snaked its way down to Alfred.

Finally, the man on the balcony scraped his unfinished cigarette against the wet wood of his balcony before sticking it carefully into a small pile of snow by his feet.

"Are you a resident here?"

Alfred froze, clutching his ice scraper. God, had this guy seen him getting out of his van? Did he know that Alfred was homeless and sleeping in a vehicle? Panic set in as Alfred constructed an assortment of lies in his mind.

"Actually," Alfred coughed, "Yeah... just moved here recently."

For a fleeting second, the man's eyes lifted before dropping down into their previous lazy position. Alfred tried to read the man's expression, but... he was never very good at reading the atmosphere.

"Well," Alfred forced a friendly smile, "it was nice meeting you. Hope to see you around!" Alfred called for Tony who quickly hopped into the van. Without wasting any time, Alfred rolled the defrosted van slowly out of the apartment parking lot, and as he looked into his rearview mirror, he just barely caught a glimpse of the strange man pushing all his weight onto one arm and easily jumping off the second floor balcony to the iced concrete below.

.-.-.

As much as Alfred loved Liberty, she could be hella trouble to deal with in the city with the lack of parking. Al had parked Liberty several blocks away and walked to his usual street corner, guitar case strapped to his back. Tony (wearing a doggie sweater to cope with the cold) followed behind, taking his sweet time to sniff passing lightpoles.

Alfred usually could earn a good couple bucks during the day for his playing, but he felt he could have earned more if only he could sing well. But, Alfred was not born with that particular talent. Still, Alfred wasn't shy by any means, and he was never one to back down, even with people screaming things like "you suck".

Alfred began playing, his fingers automatically moving across the strings. He would look up and smile whenever someone tossed in their spare change or a dollar, grateful for anything (although he definitely appreciated the dollars more). Sometimes, a small audience would form around him, usually tourists who were unaccustomed to seeing street musicians. Alfred loved it. He soaked in the attention like a dry sponge, hungry for moisture.

After a while, his fingers began to grow numb from the frigid winter's air. Even the steam from the laundry exhaust pipe he sat under could only provide so much warmth. He needed a break badly. Al finished his last song, and then reached down into his case to pull out the money he had earned, hoping he'd have enough for lunch, and maybe a little gas. He was kneeling on the ground, counting the money as he put the dollars into a short stack... an amazing $13. Alfred pocketed the bills and set the guitar into the case. Before he could shut the lid, however, a folded $10 bill clumsily dropped onto the guitar. Alfred blinked and looked up.

"Don't quit your day job."

"Mattie. What're you doing here?" Al grabbed the $10 and stuffed it into his pocket, shutting the lid to the guitar case, and snapping the locks.

"Looking for you, of course. You haven't been answering my texts lately."

"No, I mean... don't you have class or something?" Al stood, pulling the strap to the guitar case over his shoulder, and worked the strap until the case was on his back.

"I've got a little time before my next class." Matthew reached down to pet Tony. "I thought maybe we could get lunch?"

"Sounds good." Alfred grinned. "You're paying."

"What? No way!" Matthew straightened up. "I just gave you $10."

"That was for my awesome guitar playing." Alfred chuckled.

"Oh please." Matthew huffed, crossing his arms. "You aren't at a $10 level. Maybe... 10 cents."

"Hahaha, you know I'm worth at least a $20."

"Maybe... if you had huge boobs and a g-string on... and were dancing around a pole. And weren't a man. Or my brother." Al laughed and elbowed Matthew lightly.

The 12th Street Cafe served both pancakes and burgers. And, the food was good. And cheap. And usually the waitresses were cute as hell. Usually.

Alfred and Matthew stood in entry way of the cafe. Matthew pulled his heavy parka off and held the bulk of fabric over his arm. Alfred stood in front of the hostess counter, glancing around the room for someone to seat them.

"I don't see Becky anywhere." Matthew walked up to Alfred. The restaurant didn't seem particularly busy, but besides the cooks that could be seen through the window, there wasn't any waitstaff to be seen.

"Maybe she has the day off?" Alfred shrugged his shoulders.

"She quit." A hand reached over the front counter, followed by a head of dark, brown hair. "I'ma gonna take her place." The man had a thick Italian accent. He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. His eyebrows furrowed, glaring up at the two brothers. "Whatta ya' want?"

"Ummm..." Matthew blinked, unsure. "Can we get a table for two?"

"A booth?" The host ignored Matthew.

"No, a table, please?"

"You'sa gonna get a booth." The host grabbed a menu and walked off without saying a word. Matthew looked at Alfred who shrugged again. The two boys sat down and the man handed Alfred a menu before walking off.

"Wait, can I get a menu please?" Matthew called after the man, but was promptly ignored.

"Haha, don't make him mad. He might spit in your food."

"Ugh, don't say that." Matthew leaned forward. "Besides, I think he's already mad."

"Mad mad, or crazy mad?"

"Both." Alfred pushed the menu to his brother, and got up to grab another menu from the host station.

Al could have eaten the menu. Everything looked so damned delicious. Matthew sat on the other side of the booth, looking at the menu with only a passive interest. Every once in a while, when Al wasn't paying attention, he would steal a glance at his brother and then quickly avert his eyes back to his menu.

Alfred leaned on one elbow, watching as a smiling boy smoothly glided across the floor to their table.

"Welcome to the 12th Street Cafe! My name is Feliciano, and I'ma gonna be your server today! What can I get you to drink?"

"Water, for both of us." Matthew closed his menu.

"Hey, I want a pepsi!"

"I'm paying for it. You're getting water."

"I'll have a pepsi." Alfred smiled at his brother. "I'll pay for that, at least." Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing he would have to foot the bill.

"Oh, you're brothers! How cool! I have a brother too! He'sa working at the host station." The cheery waiter smiled as he pulled his notepad out of his apron. "He's a dick."

Alfred burst into laughter.

"Do you know what you'd like to order?" The Italian looked at Alfred thoughtfully. "The pasta is really nice."

"Actually, I'd like the bacon double cheeseburger. With fries." Al handed his menu to the waiter who looked disappointed.

"Oh, that's too bad. Maybe next time." Feliciano stuck his notepad back into his apron. "Okay, I'll be back with your pepsi." He walked away.

"Unbelievable." Matthew glared down at his menu. "He totally forgot about me."

"You gotta speak up, bro." Alfred laughed. "When he brings the drinks back you can tell him your order." Matthew pouted, looking away. When Feliciano brought Alfred's pepsi, he apologized profusely to Matthew, promising an extra pancake on top. After the mixup was taken care of, the brothers sat in relative quiet, before Alfred broke the awkward silence.

"I think I was caught this morning. Some dude saw me get out of Liberty." Alfred, of course, would leave out the part where he saw the mysterious man leap from the second story balcony. His tired, blurried eyes were probably just playing tricks on him anyway. Matthew, by now, knew what Liberty was by name. A frown creased the edge of Matthew's lips.

"Why haven't you been responding to my texts?"

Alfred took a long sip of his drink. "I dunno. Been busy, I guess."

"You guess?" Matthew crossed his arms and sat back in his seat.

"Look, Mattie... I'm not coming home."

"Al, you're so stubborn. I can't stand that you're living on the streets alone. Do you know how cold it was last night? 24 degrees. I was up all night worrying about you. I don't even understand what you're trying to accomplish."

"I'm not trying to accomplish anything. I can't explain it. Mattie, I just want to experience freedom for once."

"Then get an apartment with me."

"No, Mattie..." Alfred frowned, pushing his glass away. "I know what I'm doing."

"But I don't know what you're doing. Don't you ever consider me?"

"It's not about you, Mattie." Matthew balled his hands into fists.

"You're so selfish, Alfred. I can't believe you're this stupid!"

"I'm not stupid. You just don't get it."

"No, I get it. Al, you can do better than this." Matthew reached to grab Alfred's hands, but Alfred pulled his hands away and broke eye contact.

"So, you think I'm a loser. Just like Dad."

"No, Al... that's not what I'm saying."

"..."

"Al..."

"..."

"Alfred..."

"..." Al sipped at his pepsi, ignoring his brother. He stared out the window, watching Tony who was peeing on someone's shoulder bag that had been left sitting on the ground.

"Alright. I get it." Matthew pushed himself out of the booth and stood, grabbing his coat. "I've got to go to class." Matthew set a $20 on the table. "You know you can always come home." Matthew sighed and walked away, stealing one last glance at his brother before walking out of the restaurant.

"Oh, fighting is no good." The waiter broke Alfred out of his gloom as he set down the plates of food.

"Thanks..." Alfred stared at his burger, no longer hungry.

.-.-.

Contrary to Alfred's outgoing personality, he was actually quite skilled at keeping himself out of sight when it came to his alternative living arrangement. He never parked his van in the same location two nights in a row, and he made it a habit to randomly switch his parking stops at night. Apartment complexes and motels were his favorite locations. Very occasionally, he would park at a Walmart or on a suburban residential street. But, this wasn't to say that Alfred didn't have his favorite spots that he frequented more often than others. The apartment complex he had been caught at this morning had been one of his favorite spots. So, when Alfred decided he couldn't return to one of his favorite spots ever again or else risk being caught by the police, a slight emptiness flooded through his mind before he shook off the silly feeling to think of where he would sleep tonight. The Americana Sleep Inn was a medium size motel that attracted a lot of people with its cheap rates. This was his favorite spot to sleep in the city. Partly because of the parking spaces that concealed his van's interior from sight, and partly... well... partly because he just loved anything with the name America in it.

That night, Alfred slept lightly. His awkward conversation with the strange British guy... his fight with his brother... everything just felt unsettling. He couldn't even tell you why. Maybe, Alfred figured, his life had gotten so complacent and boring that his mind was latching onto anything and warping it into a drama.

Tony snored, curled into a ball at Alfred's feet. Alfred rubbed his sleepy, burning eyes. The van felt suffocating, and he needed to pee. Well, any excuse to get out of the van would work. Alfred sat up slowly so he wouldn't disturb Tony. Because of the cold, Alfred always slept in his hat and coat, so he only needed to pull on his boots before he opened the side door to the van and crept out.

"Oh, you're up." A familiar English accent bolted Alfred into place. Alfred slowly turned his head to face the man from the balcony at the apartment. The man was sitting, leaning back into the side of the motel wall.

Alfred stared at the man, his eyes locked in disbelief, his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

The man stood gracefully and sauntered over to the stunned boy. The man was shorter than Alfred. Much smaller. But, this didn't seem to stop the man from his confident, catlike approach.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Alfred's body tightened.

"My problem?" He continued to step forward. "My current problem, Dear Boy... is what to do with you."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading Chapter One! Please don't forget to leave a comment!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The R rating is for language and future violence.**

**Thanks for all the great comments, you guys!**

* * *

Growing up, Alfred had been in his fair share of fights. His body was strong, but more importantly, he was fast. His stainless track record had given him a kind of confidence that radiated outward and dissuaded people from messing with him. This time, however, Alfred stood frozen as if the cracked ice beneath his feet had roped its way up his body.

"My current problem, dear boy, is what to do with you."

"What?" Alfred frowned and held out his hands defensively. "Look, Dude, I'm sorry I lied to you. I don't live at that apartment. Gimme a break."

"Oh?" The man shifted his weight and smirked. "What a coincidence then. I don't live there either." The pregnant pause stretched into an uncomfortable territory as Alfred's mind tried to process the statement. A sort of logic clicked into place. The guy was probably just visiting a girlfriend at the apartments, and maybe he lived or worked at this motel. Or, maybe he was having some kind of one-night-stand and didn't want to bring the girl back to his place. It was a reasonable explanation, and brought Alfred some relief.

"It's funny then, huh, seeing you at this motel... since I just saw you this morning." Alfred laughed, nervously.

"Not really. Since I followed you." Alfred stopped laughing.

What the hell did this guy want? He had nothing to offer. The only things he had of value were Liberty, Tony, and himself. Liberty, he admitted, was considered a pretty shitty van by most people's standards even though he treasured her as a dear friend. And Tony, his loyal, trouble-making gray mutt with his too-large head and black, bulging eyes was considered to be an eyesore by everyone who saw him. So, that just left himself, but all the egotism in the world couldn't help Alfred figure out why someone would stalk him. He lived in a van. It's not like he had any money.

"Do you know who I am?" The man asked.

"What?"

"Do you know who I am?" The man repeated, slower, and more punctuated. Alfred eyed the man. Piercing, green eyes... stupid-looking bushy eyebrows... a green, winter hat covered most of his head that only allowed a few strands of blonde hair to escape. He did seem vaguely familiar, but Alfred just couldn't place it.

"No." Alfred glowered. "Who the hell are you?" The man let out a long, disappointed sigh.

"I'm afraid we don't have much time for chat. Not here, anyway."

"Dude, I'm not goin' anywhere with you."

"Yes, yes, I figured." The man sighed and reached into his pocket. Alfred watched him tensely but relaxed when the man only pulled out what appeared to be a business card. "You've a nasty habit of making enemies, lad."

"Woah... woah... Dude... I think you have the wrong guy. I've never done anything to anybody."

"Ignorance is not going to save your arse, Alfred."

"What? What're you talking about? You're not even making any sense."

"Alfred, there are many people looking for you... many of whom would have you believe that they're here to protect you. You can't listen to them."

"Like you?"

"What? Of course not." The man frowned. "I actually _am _here to protect you."

"Protect me?" Alfred scoffed. "From the nutcase British guy who's stalking me?" The stranger sighed and stared to his side, holding out his hand to the air.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure he's the one. No. Well, he's only human, after all. No, I am not going to discuss that here... not with _him_ watching us." The strange British man seemed to be stroking the air, speaking to nobody in particular. Alfred watched uneasily, but his expression remained stoic.

"Dude, you know, they have hospitals for that." The strange man once again turned his attention onto Alfred.

"Pardon me?"

"You know... like... pills and doctors and cat scans or whatever... to help with... that." Alfred nodded his head to where the strange man was petting the air.

"I don't need help." The man retracted his hand. "Well, not from quack doctors anyway."

"Look. I don't know if this is some kind of joke, but it's not funny. I'm not someone you should fuck with." The man, however, only scoffed, and idly flipped the business card he had pulled out earlier through his fingers.

"That's a serious statement to make to someone trying to save you and your brother, lad." Alfred's eyes snapped open.

"You know about Matt?"

"I know everything about you and your brother, Alfred."

Alfred growled as he reached forward and grabbed onto the strange man's coat.

"Don't fuck with my family, psycho!" Alfred jerked the man forward, half lifting him onto his toes. The strange man reached up and twisted Alfred's wrist back, forcing Alfred to release him. The man quickly positioned himself behind Alfred and then shoved the boy forward. Alfred tumbled down, hitting the icy sidewalk.

Alfred didn't need another invitation to attack. He shot up from the sidewalk, losing some traction with the ice, but kept steady on his feet. He tightened his hand into a fist and pushed all his energy into it, throwing his punch, targeting the man's face.

The strange man pulled himself out of the charging boy's path and quickly grabbed Alfred's wrist again. Alfred tripped forward, losing his balance, and the stranger used the momentum to flip him over and drop him to the concrete. Within a second, the man rolled Alfred onto his stomach and pinned the stunned boy's hands behind his back.

"You're incorrigible."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should occasionally open a dictionary." Alfred turned his head around just enough to shoot the man a venomous glare.

Although the strange man on top of Alfred seemed to weigh very little, his grip around Alfred's wrists was painful and iron-clad. Alfred let go a breathy, low cry. The man immediately loosened his grasp, but not enough for Alfred to move.

"I understand you better than anyone." The man's voice was almost at a whisper. "You feel like something is off." The man paused, but his grip on Alfred's wrists tightened, daring him to speak. "It's almost as if you know that you're destined for something great."

"Everyone feels like that."

"Yes, that's true enough. But Alfred, you _are_ special." The man leaned closer to Alfred, his mouth now only a few inches away from Alfred's ear. "You've no idea now... but soon enough, you'll understand."

"Stay the fuck away from my brother."

At once, Alfred felt the grip released on his wrists, and the strange man's weight no longer pressed down on him. He rolled over and sat up quickly, ready to fight, but the strange man had disappeared.

"Think about what I've said, lad." Alfred stood, whipping his head in the direction where he heard the voice coming from. The strange man had somehow gotten himself on top of the flat motel roof. The strange man was standing, one leg propped up on the ledge.

"Who the hell are you?"

"When things get too intense, don't hesitate to call me." The man tossed the business card he had been holding to Alfred. The card flitted through the air before Alfred snatched it from its clumsy freefall. The strange man used his leg to lazily push himself from the ledge and walked away, until out of sight.

"Come back here!" Alfred screamed and punched the parking lot light pole, and tenderly cradled his hand, cursing, realizing that punching a hard, inanimate object hadn't been the best of ideas.

.-.-.

Alfred skipped the downtown today, and instead, went straight to the park where Tony could freely run around. He reached into his bag of McDonald's $1 burgers. He peeled back the wrapper on one and held it out to Tony who scarfed it down. Alfred could finish the tiny burgers in three bites. It wasn't very filling, but it was something, at least. He watched Tony run off to chase some nearby geese and laid back into his thick pile of blankets, stewing over the previous night's encounter.

All he could do was replay the incident over and over in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more the images became distorted and abstract. Who were these dangerous enemies that the strange man had mentioned? No, Alfred didn't know anybody like that, and if he had, he was sure he'd know it. No, this guy was definitely just a nutcase. But how the hell did the guy manage to somehow climb 12 feet into the air in just a few seconds?

Alfred looked at the business card that Sir Creeper had tossed to him. He flipped it over and examined it. The business card was blank on the back, and on the front, there was only a phone number printed on top of what looked like a green outlined blob. Although his curiosity was dying for answers, he sure as hell wasn't going to call the number. Most likely, the guy had just been following his van around and saw him and Mattie go for lunch.

Al stuffed the business card back into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He quickly scrolled through the phone numbers until he found Mattie's name and hit 'call'. Matthew's phone quickly switched over to voicemail, and Alfred hit the disconnect in a huff, clenching his jaw. This had to have been the zillionth time Alfred had called his brother this morning. He had been trying all night, but the phone always went straight to machine. Alfred had even left about a dozen frantic text messages, but there had been no return call or texts from Matthew. Granted, it was early... but, a panic had set in, and Alfred wanted to make sure that his brother was okay. Now. Not later.

Alfred glanced at the time on his cellphone. 9 am. His father had to be at work by now. It was time to go. Alfred sat up, whistling for Tony. Tony shot into sight, a gaggle of geese chasing him to the van, snapping and honking their death cries. Alfred kicked at the geese, cursing, and slammed the van's door shut as Tony observed the struggle from the safety of Liberty's interior, tail wagging.

.-.-.

Alfred's parents lived in a neighborhood that barely qualified as a suburb of the city, as it was so quiet and distant, it could be mistaken for its own town. It was isolated. Peaceful, even. However, Alfred had found the silence disturbingly creepy, reminiscent of the serial killer murder flicks he had stupidly forced himself to watch when he was younger. The naked, skeletal trees hunched close together, and deep trenches lined the sides of the two-lane highway, sealing the perceived evil within the forest. He turned Liberty onto a side street where the trees had been thinned out to make room for the medium-sized houses that dotted the land. The route was familiar and came automatic to Alfred. This had been the neighborhood he and his brother had grown up in. The nostalgia combined with the anxiety of Matthew's whereabouts was a potent mix that pushed Alfred forward with purpose.

Alfred parked Liberty on the street and jumped out, Tony scrambling out the door behind him.

"You better behave yourself, Dog. You're on notice." Alfred glared as he pointed down at Tony. "Sit. Stay." Tony cocked his head to the side and blinked up at Alfred, oblivious to the commands. Alfred held his hand out. "Staaaaaay." Tony whined as Alfred backed away slowly.

Alfred had parked Liberty a block away from his parents' house. The walk was refreshing, although the small of his back felt stiff. He obviously needed to get some real exercise. Alfred spotted the house and surveyed the area. Because Matthew relied on public transportation, it was impossible to tell if he was home. His parents' cars were usually kept in the garage, so there was no real way of telling if they were home either unless he got closer.

He tiptoed over to the large, proud tree in front of the house. Even bare of its leaves, the tree-trunk was thick and easily concealed Alfred's body. Alfred glanced around, biting his lip, praying that nobody was taking that opportunity to look out their window. Confident that he was in the clear, Alfred dashed toward the house, hiding behind one of the snow-covered bushes that decorated the front. He peeked into the windows, staring into his parents' living room. The room seemed devoid of life, and the lights were off. Good. It seemed like his parents were at work. He could gamble ringing on the doorbell, but in the off-chance that one of his parents were still at home, he decided the risk was not worth taking. Besides, he'd always wanted to try throwing rocks at someone's bedroom window to get their attention... just like the movies.

"Alfred?" A feminine, cautious voice called from behind, freezing Alfred into place. "Alfred. What are you doing?" Alfred gripped the window seal and hesitantly turned around.

"Ummm... hey Mom. What's up?" He forced a smile, trying to look natural, as the older woman stared at him.

"Alfred, honey... what are you doing?"

"I'm... ummm..."

"I was just out taking a walk. You're lucky I noticed your van parked about a block away, or I'd have thought you were a robber or something and called the cops."

"Umm..." Alfred finally noticed Tony, standing beside his mother, wagging his tail. The dog had followed his mother back to the house.

"Alfred, if you need money, you don't have to break in and steal it. You could just ask." His mother sighed and stepped toward the front door of the house, fumbling with her keys before finally unlocking it.

"I wasn't trying to break in! I was just looking for Mattie!" Alfred stumbled out of the bushes, following his mother to the front door.

"Mmm-hmmm."

"I'm serious! God, what do you take me for?"

"Let's not fight." Alfred sulked, insulted. His mother sighed and grabbed onto Alfred, pulling him into an embrace.

"My boy! My derelict, hobo child!" Alfred, smothered by his mother's dramatic hugs, stood awkwardly, letting his mother lavish her sarcastic attention on him. She released him, only to grab Alfred's cheeks with both of her hands. "Look at you. You look so..."

"Handsome?" Alfred offered.

"Worn." His mother answered.

Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but his mother cut him off. "Get that thing you call a pet into the back yard." She pushed the front door open and stepped halfway into the house. "Then, come inside. Take your boots off at the door." His mother turned and entered the house, closing the door behind her. She was tall for a woman, but still stood short compared to her two sons. Her long, wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few strategic strands caressing her beautiful face.

Alfred lead Tony around to the back yard and opened the gate. A fluffy, white dog was laying on the porch. His thick fur was a bit dirty, but well-groomed. He wagged his tail as Tony approached.

"Hey, Kumo... garara?" Alfred half questioned, half called to the dog. He could never remember the thing's name. Leave it to Mattie to name it something weird. Alfred shut the gate, only half noticing Tony stealing Kumo's bone before sprinting off to the other side of the yard. Kumo let out a grumph, but ultimately laid his head back down to finish his nap.

The inside of the house was immaculate. Both of Alfred's parents had always been a bit obsessive about the cleaning; a trait that hadn't been passed to him. Alfred followed the thick, heavenly scent of foodinto his mother's kitchen where several dozen muffins were cooling on a rack. She moved around the kitchen, almost dance-like, to her own rhythm, pulling things out of the refrigerator and cupboards. Alfred sat down on a stool in front of the kitchen island, staring at his hands.

"Where's Mattie?" Alfred asked as his mother set a muffin in front of him.

"In his room, sleeping, probably." His mother cracked some eggs open, pouring the contents into a bowl.

"Has he been, you know, acting strange lately or anything?" Alfred's mother paused to throw him a questioning glance.

"You mean, stranger than suddenly dropping out of school before your first class even starts and running away from home to live like some wannabe hippie? No, I can't say he is. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Alfred let the verbal stab slide.

"So," his mother continued, "what is new with you?" She poured some milk into the bowl of raw eggs and started to whip the eggs into a creamy concoction.

"Nothin'. I've been playing my guitar downtown. It's pretty cool! You wouldn't believe how much money I make." Alfred stuffed part of the muffin into his mouth. It was sweet and warm, practically melting on his tongue. "You know, I thought after Christmas, people wouldn't give as much money, but they totally do." Alfred's mother listened, her back turned away from him as he told his casual lies. "Dude, guess how much money I made yesterday?"

"I'm not 'Dude', Alfred, I'm 'Mom'. And, I don't know. I couldn't even fathom a guess."

"Like $68... that's more than I'd get working at some shitty day job." His mother spun her head around and clicked her tongue.

"Language, Alfred."

"Sorry." His mother picked up the crumpled muffin wrapper sitting in front of Alfred and then set another buttered muffin in front of him. Alfred scarfed it down.

"Good morning, Anna. Matthew." Alfred's father casually strolled into the kitchen and headed straight for the muffins sitting on the cooling rack. "These look delicious." He leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek. Alfred choked on his muffin, coughing to clear his throat.

"Matthew? Are you okay?" His father asked, leaning back into the counter. Alfred only looked at his mother questioningly. She sipped on her coffee, using the mug to hide any expression. "Matthew? You need water?"

Alfred shook his head, still coughing.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Alfred asked, spontaneously softening his voice to match his brother's tone. Alfred's father poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, reaching for the newspaper.

"It's Saturday."

"Oh? Oh. Of course. You know... studying... working hard... forgetting the day of the week, and all." Alfred followed his mother's example, hiding his face behind a glass of orange juice, completely forgetting that he and his brother shared the same face. His father didn't seem to notice and took another sip of coffee as he flipped through the paper.

"Studying? Is that what kept you out until 3 in the morning?"

"What?" Alfred's body stiffened more with every passing second. He needed to get out of there fast.

"Matthew, I'm only teasing you. You're in college now. You're a responsible young man. I just want you to make smart choices. Understand?"

"Y-yeah..."

"And always wear a condom." Alfred spurt out the orange juice he was sipping.

"I've gotta go." Alfred set down the glass and raced for an exit before his mother grabbed onto his shoulder.

"Wait." Alfred stopped long enough for his mother to hand him a plate of scrambled eggs, with two more muffins sitting to the side. "Don't be a stranger." Alfred avoided looking into her eyes as she slipped something into one of his pockets. Alfred, though, only managed a half nod, and hurried to his brother's room, thankful his mother hadn't ratted out his identity.

He paused in front of the door, using his free hand to reach into his pocket, curious to see what his mother had given him. He pulled out what looked to be $45 in cash. He sighed, feeling cheapened, but relieved, and stuffed the money back into his jacket. Chaos aside, Alfred needed to get to Matthew. He gently turned the nob and pushed the bedroom door open. The thick curtains and blinds shut out most of the light, blinding Alfred as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Alfred slid his hand over the wall, fumbling for the light switch.

Matthew was in bed, huddled and hiding under a thick blanket, oblivious to the dim light that Alfred had just turned on. Alfred sat at his brother's desk, pulling the plate of food toward him. He was starving, and it was enough to know that Matthew was at least okay. He scarfed down the food in record time, setting down the plate when finished. Bored, he let his eyes wander around the room. Matthew's walls were covered in hockey posters, maps, and photos. It hadn't changed at all since Alfred had left home last year.

Alfred remembered his mother's comments about him looking 'worn'. Alfred stood and walked over to the tall, full-length mirror that Mattie had propped up against his wall. Something bold and white caught his eyes. Alfred leaned forward, squinting at the piece of paper that was wedged into the mirror's frame. Horrified, he grabbed the piece of paper and held it close to his face. It was identical to the business card that Sir Creeper had given him just last night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Finally an update! A huge thanks to all the people who've been patient with my brief absence. I moved to another state, and just got too sidetracked with work and normal life stuff. But, my schedule is getting back to normal, so I'm really excited to keep moving forward with this fic!**

**Thank you for reading, and please read and review if you have a spare moment!**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

"Mattie... Mattie... wake up." Alfred nudged his brother, who at the moment, was outrageously preoccupied with sleeping.

"Mmmmph..." Matthew rolled over turning his back to Alfred, gripping onto his pillow.

"Matt. Wake up." Alfred raised his voice as he jabbed his hand into Matthew's shoulder, but the sleeping twin only grunted. Alfred let out a 'humph' as he grabbed his brother's shoulders and shook him, intent with purpose. Matthew gasped as he jolted up, smacking his brother in the face. Alfred topped onto the floor, landing on his back.

"Jesus Mattie! What the hell?" Alfred whined, using the edge of the bed frame to sit himself up, and then rubbed his cheek where he had been punched. Matthew stared at him with blank, sleep-filled eyes before finally blinking with awareness.

"Alfred?"

"Ummm, yeah Dude." Alfred climbed onto Matthew's bed again, still cupping his cheek. "You fucking punched me!"

"What?" Matthew rubbed his eyes and then leaned to his side to fumble for his glasses. Alfred grabbed the glasses and put them into Matthew's hand. "What are you doing here?"

"What's this?" Alfred shoved the business card into Matthew's face. Matthew leaned back, grabbing the card, looking at it momentarily before glancing to the side to look at the alarm clock on his night stand.

"Al, what's going on?"

"Where did you get this card?" Alfred had practically cut him off as he shoved the business card further into his brother's face. Matthew glared at Alfred as he ripped the business card out of his hands.

"About this card..." Matthew shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. "Al... I want you to be honest with me... you can talk to me..."

Alfred's heart quickened. The soft, uneasy tone in Matthew's voice did not bode well. If that lunatic had done something to his brother, he was going to call the number on the phone and beat the nutter into a bloody pulp.

"Alfred, are you dealing drugs?" Matthew winced as he said it, but leaned forward, grabbing Alfred's hand. "Just tell me the truth."

Alfred flinched, yanking his hand away. "Excuse me?" Matthew grabbed onto Al's shoulder.

"If you're in trouble, you can tell me. I'll help!" Alfred felt cold as he shot off the bed and stepped back.

"You think I'm selling drugs?"

"Well," Matthew pushed the heavy blankets off the bed, kicking his legs over the side. "What am I supposed to think? Some guy just came up to me last night, thinking I was you. I told him I was your brother and he gave me this card. He said that you were in trouble, and there are people after you. It has no name or anything."

"So, you just automatically assume I'm a dealer?"

"I don't know what to assume with you anymore."

"Jesus Christ." Alfred turned his back to his brother, pulling at his messy locks of hair.

"Who was this guy?"

"How the fuck should I know? He's some crazy dude who's been stalking me."

"Stalking you?"

"Yeah."

A long moment passed before either of the brothers spoke. Alfred crossed his arms; his back still to his brother.

"Alfred..." Matthew sighed, standing up. Alfred pretended to ignore him, turning his head so that Matthew couldn't see the burning tears trying to break free. "I'm sorry. I'm just really worried about you." Alfred said nothing, but sniffled softly as he rubbed the moisture out of his eyes, then quickly moved his hand to his hair, pretending to scratch his head as a cover.

"Whatever. It's no big deal." Alfred waved his hand, dismissing his brother.

"You need to call the police."

"Huh?" Alfred turned around to face his brother.

"If this guy is stalking you, he could be dangerous."

"I can't call the cops. It's not like they're gonna do anything for me anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because the cops don't give a shit about homeless people."

"You have a home. And that's not true anyway." Alfred glanced at the business card in his brother's hand before biting his lip.

"Alright..." Alfred sighed and held out his hand. "Give me the card. I'll call the stupid cops."

Matthew slowly raised his hand up to pass the card over, and Alfred snatched the card away, sticking it in his pocket.

"Hey, Mattie. If you see that guy again, let me know right away, okay?"

"Alright..." Matthew plopped onto his bed, leaning back. Alfred remained standing, staring at the door. "By the way," Matthew interrupted Alfred's thoughts, "what _are_ you doing here?"

Alfred hesitated, but before he could answer, there came a soft knock on the door.

"Matthew, can I come in?" It was their father.

"Shit," Alfred winced, and then brought up his hand to silence his brother. "Just a minute." Alfred grabbed Matthew's shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

"What's the big deal?"

"Shhh! He thinks I'm you."

Matthew let out a grunt. "Seriously, Al?"

"Just get in the closet. This will be my way out."

"No, this is my room. You hide in the closet."

"Damn it, Mattie." Alfred's grip on his brother tightened, trying to force him towards the closet. Matthew tried to slap Alfred's hand away.

"Why do you have to hide from him? This is childish."

"I'm not going to be the one hiding. You are." The more Alfred tried to force his brother into the closet, the more Matthew resisted. Alfred wrapped his arms around his brother's waist, opting to pick him up and force him to the other side of the room, but what seemed like an easy task turned out to be a mistake. Matthew and Alfred, identical in almost every way, were the same size. Matthew had always carried himself differently than his brother, which made him appear smaller, but 8 years of playing hockey worked in Matthew's favor. As the two wrestled, eventually moving their fitful brawl onto the bedroom floor, they failed to notice the tall, looming figure, watching them from above.

"Are you two done now?" The twins stopped wrestling, and looked up. Their father stood, crossing his arms. The two had been so preoccupied with themselves that they hadn't even noticed that their father had let himself into the room.

"Ummm..." Alfred looked at his brother anxiously for a solution to the predicament. Matthew only rolled his eyes.

"Alfred, I knew you were here as soon as I saw your dog in the back yard."

Tony. Alfred had forgotten all about him.

Whenever Alfred's father spoke to him, Alfred brimmed with frustration. He didn't understand where his anger stemmed from. Alfred certainly didn't hate his father, and in fact, Alfred had a great deal of respect for the man. Even if he didn't have any particular reason for the anger, the anger was justification in itself. If Alfred was angry at him, then his father MUST have done something wrong, even if Alfred didn't remember.

"Alfred." His father stated, almost cautiously. Alfred looked at his father, but not really. His eyes couldn't focus, and he stared more at his father's chest... or rather, through his father's chest. He wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"'Sup?" Alfred straightened awkwardly, sticking his hands in his pocket. "So, I was just here to get some of my things from my bedroom. I won't be long."

"You're here early."

"Well, you know, seize the day and all that jazz."

Matthew shuffled to his bed and sat down, rubbing his forehead.

"Did you find a place to store your things?"

"Umm, yeah. Well, I'm just picking up a few things." Alfred lied.

"I see. Well..." Alfred could hear his father ramble on, and he could clearly hear his voice, but he couldn't understand the words. His father might have well been speaking in a foreign language. But, when his father's deep voice paused, obviously waiting for a response from Alfred, Alfred could only mutter a "_yeah, okay_" before looking away, finding a small dot on his brother's wall to be a desperate distraction.

"Okay, well, it's good to see you. Come down to say 'bye' before you take off." His father left the room leaving Alfred to breathe free.

"Jeez, can you guys get any more awkward?" Matthew rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his bed.

"You should 'of just hid in the closet!"

Matthew grabbed a pillow and threw it as hard as he could at Alfred's face. Al blocked it easily.

"So, are you sure you're okay with that stalker guy? Maybe you should stay the night here." Matthew asked, laying on his back, watching Alfred. Alfred stuck his hand into his pocket and fumbled with the mostly-blank business card.

"I have a plan." Matthew sat up and raised an eyebrow.

"A plan? I know how your plans turn out. I still have a scar from one of your ingenious plans."

"Geez, when will you get over that? That was forever ago!"

"It was last year."

"Pfft, whatever." Alfred sat down next to his brother on the bed, facing him. "I can take care of myself."

"Alfred..."

"Yeah?"

"Just please don't do anything stupid."

"Don't worry! This guy is nothing!" Alfred only half believed that himself, but one way or another, he would end this tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

**The last chapter was short and a little non-eventful, but things will pick up a bit, starting at the end of this chapter. I swear this story is going somewhere.**

**Aphrodite931, to answer your question: although I'm not looking for a beta at that moment, if I ever write myself into a tight spot in the future, I'll be sure to remember your offer. ;)**

**Lunar Iris: Thanks for your review! Since Alfred and Matthew are supposedly the same size and build, I'd like to think that as humans, they're pretty close in actual strength, but I would imagine that Matthew would hold back a lot more and thus seem weaker. Matthew does seem like a worry-wart, but I'd be a ball of nerves too if I had a brother like Alfred.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

Being that it was winter, Alfred didn't care to spend much time outside. There were places that he could go, but not many welcomed a teenaged freeloader who came day after day and spent the entire evening just loitering about. So, Alfred spent most of his time at the library. And, when the library closed at 9 pm, he would often trek over to the college where he would hang out in the common area of the student center. There were televisions, tables and couches, and free internet... well, pretty much anything Alfred could ask for. Plus, he felt like he belonged. All the students bustling about made him feel good, although he couldn't explain why. There was just some kind of vibe in the air.

Of course, if Mattie knew what was going on in Alfred's head, he'd probably just say something like: "Why don't you stop pretending to be a student and actually BE a student!" But, things were more complicated than that.

But, it was an evening such as this that Alfred found himself at the college, sitting hunched over a notebook. His phone sat in front of him on the table, and Alfred would steal peaks at the phone, anxious, as if he was expecting a phone call containing bad news. Alfred had meant to call his supposed stalker, but had somehow found that it hadn't happened yet. In 5 minutes, he reasoned, he'd call the phone number on the card. He'd just get it over with. He had a plan, and now he had to follow through. But, those 5 minutes passed. Then another 5 minutes. Then an hour passed. And Alfred kept pushing the phone call off.

Since when did he become a coward? But then, Alfred would remember the night before when he had confronted the man... and he had ended up on the ground.

But it was icy outside. He probably just slipped.

No, the man had held him down... he was strong!

Then again, the guy was probably just using the force of gravity, and Alfred was probably just weak from being half awake.

Alfred pressed his eyes shut, and tried to block out the arguments in his head. To be perfectly honest, Alfred wasn't even sure his memory was perfect. The more he thought about the incident, the more the incident seemed to change. The whole night seemed unreal. But, he'd reach into his pocket and pull out the almost-blank business card with just the phone number on it... then, things would snap back into reality. Or, at least, what Alfred thought was reality.

Alfred sighed and laid his head on his crossed arms. He was tired. More than tired. Worn. After sleeping in Liberty night after night, dealing with the paranoia of being caught, and surviving the bitter cold, Alfred had not slept much over the last several months. He half wondered if maybe he was going legitimately crazy from the sleep deprivation.

The student center had grown peaceably quiet since most students had gone home, whether to their apartments, dorms, or parent's homes. Lucky them, Alfred thought. His breath grew longer, and blackness slowly filtered out everything.

* * *

_"Oi, what are you doing?" The British man stood at the entryway of a door made of heavy wood. Alfred was inside a dark, dusty room, gripping onto something. He stared at the item in his hand, but he didn't seem to recognize it. It was such an obvious, recognizable object, but Alfred couldn't remember what he was holding, even as he stared at the item in his hand._

_"I don't know. I think I'm dying."_

"_Dying? Well," The man sighed and cocked his head to the side. "That's a tough lot, lad, but that's how it goes, I suppose."_

"_I'm dying, but I don't know why."_

"_Because I'm going to kill you."_

"_Why?"_

"_It's in your cards. Your end is near." The man pointed at the object in Alfred's hand. Alfred glanced down, and he stared at the tarot card he was holding. The Death card. Except, he knew that the item he was holding before was not this. It was something else._

_But as Alfred held onto the card, a frost snaked its way up his fingers. Alfred tried to drop the card, but it was stuck to him. He shook his hand violently, but his fingers only disintegrated. Alfred screamed, dropping to his knees as his entire arm turned into a frosty dust._

_He felt a hot hand touch his head gently, and Alfred looked up wildly into the sorrowful green eyes of the man who was a threat._

"_Help! Please!" Alfred sobbed._

"_No." Alfred's arm and shoulder were gone now, and Al grabbed onto the man with his remaining hand, grasping at the fine clothing between his rigid fingers. "I'm sorry, but I can't." And, with those words, Alfred had completely dissolved into a million frozen pieces._

* * *

Alfred could feel a strong arm gripping his shoulder and shaking. Alfred snapped awake, jolting back. His blurried eyes seemed to focus a little as he stared at the figure looming over him. The man pulled his hand away from Alfred's shoulder.

"I did not... intend startle." The man seemed to struggle with the words. Alfred rubbed his eyes and blinked, trying to see the man a little more clearly. The man was huge, with the aura of a wall. The man peered down, making Alfred uncomfortable.

"Ummm... yeah? You need something?" Alfred swerved his body around, puffing out his chest a bit as he looked back up at the man who had an unnerving stare about him.

"Last night was fun. Had a good time. Although..." As the man grinned, his eyes narrowed. "I clearly top."

Alfred said nothing, although he wouldn't have been too surprised if he was wearing a dumbfounded look.

"What?"

"Last night. The game."

Alfred only squinted his eyes in thought. The man obviously had mistaken him for someone else. This wasn't uncommon, as Alfred and Matthew were identical twins... and Matthew did go to this college... but Matthew didn't really socialize. At least not with hulking behemoths like this guy.

"Did you drink too much?" The man pulled out a chair next to Alfred's and sat down.

"I think you have the wrong guy, dude." The man looked puzzled.

"Matt?"

"Oh, no... dude, that's my brother." Alfred relaxed. This guy was probably referring to a hockey game or something.

The man grinned for a split second before his expression fixed into a friendly smile.

"You are... brother who lives in car?"

"Ummm, yeah... I live in my van. I guess Matt told you about me?"

"Da... well, but... from what he said... I expected..."

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it do not matter." The man glanced over at the janitor sweeping the hallway with a ragged pushbroom, glaring at them.

"Dude, I guess the student center is closing. I must've been asleep for a while." Alfred yawned, flexing his arms into a stretch.

The light-haired giant flicked his scarf over his shoulder as Alfred stood, collecting his backpack.

"Want to go for a drink?" The man asked while also standing.

"Huh?"

"I am not tired, and I would like to hear more about your... adventure."

Alfred grinned. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"Fuck yeah! Let's get out of here."

"Great," the man almost purred in his accented tongue. "I know a place we can go."

"Lead the way, dude."

"Ivan. My name is Ivan. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Cool, I'm Alfred. But, just call me Al." Alfred shoved his phone in his pocket, completely forgetting why it had been sitting out to begin with.

* * *

Ivan and Alfred, having been kicked out of the university's student center by the scowling janitor, headed to the nearest liquor store. Alfred, being only 19, remained inside Liberty while his new instant friend had ventured into the store to procure a bottle of what Alfred had rightfully assumed to be vodka. Following Ivan's directions, Alfred drove them to a dark, eerie part of the city.

"We're here." Ivan unbuckled his seat belt and leered out the window as Alfred rolled Liberty to a stop. The area had a lonely silence to it that unsettled Alfred's nerves. If he were ever to be murdered by some sort of serial killer, he imagined it'd have to be somewhere exactly like this place. And, if Alfred was perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't sure that he even trusted his new Russian friend 100%.

But, Alfred, despite being outgoing, didn't have many friends to speak of, and his hunger for any sort of companionship, plus the promise of free booze, overrode any sort of reluctance.

Alfred, unsure, kept Liberty's engines running even though she was comfortably parked in the abandoned lot.

"Are you sure?" Alfred glanced at Ivan who only smiled and pushed his door open, jumping out with a heavy thud. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek as he turned Liberty's ignition to 'off'. If he was going to get hacked to bits, at least he'd die knowing that he wasn't a coward.

Tony was asleep in the back of the van, completely oblivious (or maybe indifferent) to Alfred's possible horror movie death.

"This way." Ivan nodded his head toward a building that looked like it had been abandoned for the good part of a decade. Alfred followed silently, keeping particular attention for any noise coming from the darkest areas. However, Alfred's worry was in vain. Ivan had lead the two of them up the side of the building to the rooftop. In fact, Alfred was almost amazed how simple it had been to scale the wall.

The top of the roof was lined with a layer of gravel and snow. Alfred noticed a path of footprints already cutting into the otherwise pristine snow. Ivan must have been here many times before. Alfred's suspicions were right on. Ivan followed the trail of footprints to the opposite side of the roof and sat down in a lawn chair, sitting back comfortably.

"Dude, you have chairs up here?"

"Da. Sit." The man demanded more than asked, but Alfred obliged and sat awkwardly in the chair as Ivan pulled the bottle of vodka from the brown paper bag that housed it. He twisted the lid off before taking a long gulp. Ivan coughed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before holding the bottle up to Alfred to take.

"Thanks." Alfred followed Ivan's lead, trying to chug down the vodka. Saying the vodka tasted terrible was an understatement. It tasted like what Alfred assumed hand sanitizer would taste like. He pressed his gloved hand against his mouth so that he wouldn't spit the vodka out. "Shit, man..."

"Da, it tastes like shit." Ivan grinned as he took the bottle away from Alfred and took another swig. "But," he coughed, "once you drink enough, does not matter anyway."

"I'll drink to that." Alfred laughed as Ivan handed the bottle back to him.

Alfred had lost track of time as they drank, made small talk, and stared at the radiant city lights that reflected off the thick, lazy river in front of them. Alfred could see why Ivan repeatedly came back to this spot.

"So, what brings you to America, anyway?" Alfred slurred, staring up at a cloud in the sky that was illuminated by the brilliant city stretching before them.

Ivan didn't respond immediately. He sighed, also staring up at the sky.

"I have business to do."

"You're not a college student?"

"Nyet."

Alfred briefly thought it strange that Ivan would be hanging around the university without being an actual student. Then again, Alfred wasn't a student, and he was there frequently. Or, maybe Ivan worked there. Whatever.

"So, how long are you in the States then?" Alfred turned his head to look at Ivan. Ivan seemed to sit on the words for a moment, maybe pondering the meaning of what Alfred had drunkenly asked.

"Until my business here is done. I do not know."

"So," Alfred urged Ivan on, trying to make deeper conversation. "What kind of business do you do?" Instead, Ivan returned Alfred's glance and grinned.

"I will answer... if you answer question."

"Okay, shoot."

"Why do you live in van?"

Alfred sighed and sunk further into the lawn chair. Why did he live in a van? Alfred wasn't sure he actually knew the answer to that.

"Dunno. I guess it was just time to get out of the house, you know?"

"Not really." Ivan shrugged, chugging more of the vodka. "In Russia, it is common for a unmarried man or woman to live with parents as adults."

"Really? That's cool, I guess. I don't know how you can stand it though. I mean, don't you still get treated like a kid? That'd piss me off. I couldn't deal with it."

"Well," Ivan drawled, his accent getting worse as he drank more. "I do not have parents to live with. They are dead." Ivan took a longer swig of the bottle before handing it back to Alfred.

"I'm sorry."

"It is okay. I have two sister. They are my world."

"Yeah. Mattie is everything to me. But don't tell him I said that."

Ivan grinned.

"So, now I answer your question." Ivan sat up, leaning forward. "Long ago, I was very powerful man. I had everything. I worked hard to get where I at." Alfred listened silently, fascinated. "But, in that time, I lost what it meant to be Russian. Russians are passionate people. But, my heart was falling out." Ivan frowned bitterly.

"You seem alright to me." Alfred offered.

"Da..." Ivan grabbed the bottle from Alfred again and took another sip. The vodka bottle was almost empty, an amazing feat for two people. "Now, you answer my question."

"Wait," Alfred waved his hand. "You haven't finished answering my question yet."

"And you have not answered mine."

"What?"

"Why do you live in your van?"

"I already answered that."

"Your answer was cheap. I want truth." Ivan grinned.

"Ahhh, man, you're killing me!" Alfred threw up his hands, faking exasperation. "Honestly, I have no idea. It's just like... I had a feeling... something wasn't right. Like... I was missing something."

"Do you like living in van?"

"No." Alfred blurted out before he could stop himself. But, Alfred felt a little weight lift off his soul. Maybe it was because Ivan was pretty much a stranger, but it felt amazing to admit his little secret out loud. "Dude, it's fucking cold out. Fuck winter!" Alfred stood and kicked at a pile of snow near his chair. "And, now I've got some fucking, fuck face stalker. Fuck him too!" Alfred roared out, unaware of how his voice carried.

"Stalker?" Ivan raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yeah, some nutcase has been following me around. He gave me some business card with his number and everything. I was gonna call him up and then confront him, but I just haven't gotten around to it." Alfred lied, not wanting to reveal that he was actually just to nervous to call the man. But, in Alfred's sudden drunken rage, he did not notice the childish grin plastered across Ivan's face.

"You should call him. Now."

"What, no way."

"Why not?" Ivan kept grinning. "Together, we can take this little man out. Call him."

"Fuck it. Yeah, let's do this."

It made sense in Alfred's currently inebriated logic. Ivan was huge and obviously packing some sort of muscle. If Alfred was going to take this guy on, who better to have on his side? Alfred reached inside his pocket and numbly pulled out his phone and the business card. He slowly punched in the numbers with his gloved hand. However, as Alfred could hear the ringing across the phone line, a wave of nausea hit him. What was he doing?

After three rings, the other line picked up. A familiar British accent greeted him across the line.

"It's about bloody time!" he heard his stalker blurt out.

Alfred had started to respond, but a hand suddenly clapped over his mouth, pulling him back. The gloved hand pressed against his nose, blocking Alfred from breathing. Alfred tried to scream, but with the glove pressed tightly against his mouth and nose, he found that no sound came out. Another gloved hand grabbed the phone away from Alfred, who futility clawed at Ivan's arm.

"Da?" Ivan's accented, but cool voice spoke into the phone as Alfred struggled. Alfred tried to elbow the man instead, but Ivan hardly budged.

"Ahh, yes... this Alfred you speak of. He is here. I have not harmed him, although," the man looked down at Alfred with a mixture of contempt and amusement, "he is not comfortable." Alfred could hear the British man yelling over the phone, but was too frantic to understand what the disembodied voice was saying. Suddenly, it didn't matter if that guy was some nutjob stalker. He needed help! His lungs were burning, and he couldn't budge as he was being held against Ivan's large and firm body.

"Proof? Here is your proof." The man held the phone up to Alfred's face and released his grip over Alfred's mouth. Alfred wanted to scream for help, but all he could manage was a choking gasp for air before the man covered his mouth and nose again.

"See? He's fine." The man had a hint of humor in his voice.

"You know what I want. And now that I have the boy, I will get it." Ivan hung up the phone before sticking it into his pocket. Alfred grew weaker, barely conscious, as his lungs were deprived from oxygen.

"To finish answering your question," Ivan whispered into Alfred's ear, keeping his grip firm over Alfred's mouth and nose. "My business here... is you."

Alfred hadn't really comprehended the words, however. He faded away into a dark, forced sleep, uncaring about the danger he was in.


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I just found out about Season 5 of Hetalia... I'm not sure what to think of it yet. I kind of liked the original art more, but that's just me. Still, I'm happy to see more Hetalia being made so I can't complain!**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! ****Aphrodite931:**_ Russia is one of my favorite Hetalia characters, so I have a lot planned for him. But, honestly, he's not really a villain in this story. Other than that, you'll just have to wait and see! _**Sora Resi: **_Yup. He is. XD_** Mofalle: **_I moved to another state and started a job that took up most of my time... aaaaand, I sort of forgot about this fanfic for a while. :I_** Lunar Iris: **_Just a forewarning, Canada and Russia are also pretty big characters in this fic, although Alfred and UK are definitely the main. Although, I guess we haven't really seen all that much of UK yet._** The Gilbird, America96, and MintyElla: **_Thank you for reading and reviewing! The encouragements make me write faster! :)_

**Warning: Alfred uses naughty words!**

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**Chapter 5:**

Alfred woke with his head pounding. He sat up slowly so his stomach wouldn't turn violent, untangled himself from the heap of blankets that had been covering him, and sat slouched, glancing around the strange room he had found himself in. After spotting what looked like a bathroom, his body shuffled mechanically across the cold concrete floor.

He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up. At least that helped him feel a little better. After washing out his mouth, he surveyed the bathroom. The sink, toilet, and shower looked old, as if they were torn from the 70's. Alfred half noted a new toothbrush, still in the package, and a small tube of toothpaste sitting on top of a wire shelf. A clean, red towel hung neatly over a bar. As Alfred finished in the bathroom, he slowly came to his senses.

Still drunk, his head spinning, he made his way back to the bed. Where the hell was he? He appeared to be in some sort of basement. There were no windows, and the only light came from a bare, eyesore of a lightbulb screwed into an old socket on the ceiling. Beside the small bed Alfred found himself sitting on, there was very little furniture in the room: a ragged couch, a small kitchen table with two chairs, a television, and a tiny, makeshift kitchenette.

What had happened last night? Alfred pressed his eyes shut trying to remember, but found only vague flashes of memory. He was at the university student center, then he met Ivan. They climbed the roof, and then they drank. A lot. But, Alfred didn't remember coming here, wherever here was. Maybe it was Ivan's house. He briefly considered exploring around, but his hangover had other plans in mind for him.

If Ivan had brought him back here to sleep off the night, he probably wouldn't mind if Alfred slept in just a few more hours. It was true that his new Russian friend had seemed horrified that Alfred slept in his car. Ivan was a bit on the weird and aggressive side, but it turned out that he wasn't so bad. Alfred laid back onto the bed, slowly rolling onto his side, and quickly fell back asleep, content that he had a warm bed to sleep in.

Alfred was unsure of how much time he had spent in bed. He had drifted in and out of his slumber, but he was starting to get a little bored and a lot hungry. Still, if this was Ivan's house, where was Ivan? The house had been quiet all day without a soul to be seen.

Alfred heard the basement door click and creak open. Soft footsteps creaked down the stairs, and the distinct scent of garlic spread through the room. He sat up and looked at the small man who was setting a tray down on the table. The boy caught Alfred's eyes, and grew pale.

"I-I thought that you might be hungry." The boy's voice quivered, and he stepped back.

Alfred took a good look at the boy who shook, half hiding his body behind a large metal pipe that stretched from the ceiling to the floor.

"Wait, I know you." Alfred's eyes opened with recognition. "Francisco or whatever. You work at that restaurant." The boy, already pale, grew snow white.

"Y-yes. Ehhh... I am sorry, but I do not'a remember you. Enjoy the food. I-I made it myself." He backed away slowly, and inched his way back to the stairs leading to the floor above.

"Wait," Alfred shoved the blankets aside as he stood shakily. "Do you know where Ivan is? I should probably head home soon."

"I'm sorry..." The boy waved his hands in front of him. "I really, really don't know anything. I'ma sorry." Alfred followed as the boy shot up the stairs, quickly squeezing through the opened door that lead to the floor above.

"Wait!" The boy ran out of sight, and Alfred shoved the door aside, entering what appeared to be a kitchen.

Before Alfred could stop himself, he ran into a tall man with combed back blonde hair. His sharp blue eyes were boiling with anger as he grabbed onto Alfred's upper arm and dragged him back into the basement. Alfred stumbled as he was pulled down the stairs. The blonde man shoved Alfred back into the room, and Al stumbled, unable to catch his footing from a step up, falling hard onto the concrete.

"Vat did you do to him to make him so scared?" The man spat out as Alfred pushed himself up off the floor to look at the man.

"I didn-"

"Silence!" The man roared. "This time, I threw you down from the first step. Next time you attempt escape, I vill throw you down from the top of the stairs. Is that understood?" The man, however, did not wait for Alfred to reply, although Alfred was too dumbstruck to reply anyway, and he marched up the stairs, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Alfred stood shakily, flexing his fingers to make sure his wrist wasn't broken. He was relieved to find everything in working order, even though his wrist throbbed with a dull, pulsing pain.

What had just happened? Alfred climbed the stairs, and tried to open the door. Locked.

"Hey! This isn't funny! Let me out!" Alfred banged on the door. "I didn't mean to scare him!" Alfred pressed his ear to the thick, wooden door. He could hear muffled voices, but none of them seemed directed to answering Alfred. He banged on the door again, using the hand that hadn't been injured. "I'm a friend of Ivan's! Open up!" No response. "I'm gonna kick this fucking door down if you don't let me out now! This is illegal!" Alfred kicked on the door, but found it was hard to get a good center of balance with the stairs lowering his relative position.

10 minutes passed like this until he had worn himself out. He slumped onto the top step, rubbing his closed eyes with the palms of his hands. He was tired and sick and definitely not in the mood to deal with this situation, whatever situation this happened to be.

Alfred had blacked out last night, so he stretched his mind to remember anything. Had he done something bad while he was drinking? Was Ivan also in trouble? What about Tony and Liberty?

Alfred bit his lip. He and Ivan were in a shady part of town. What if they had witnessed some sort of mafia crime and were being held. The little, cowardly man was Italian... and Italians had mafias, right? Alfred groaned, his heart sinking. He slunk back to the bed to lay down, pressing his eyes shut, concentrating on trying to piece the previous night together.

. . . . . .

After Alfred had started living in his van, he had spent his days doing a lot of nothing, and although he often fought off boredom, there was a part of him that was drawn to the slow and easy lifestyle. However, trapped in the basement, he found the boredom to be a sort of consuming torture. He still didn't know why he had been locked in a basement by a bunch of crazy foreigners to begin with.

Alfred had walked around the room, studying every inch of the walls and ceilings, taking inventory of all the items he had in his immediate possession. There were plastic dishes that looked like they had been stolen from a cheap diner, a television remote, a couple blankets, and a pillow. A large, black trash bag sitting on the couch stood out. Alfred had inspected the bag's contents to find a variety of his belongings: clothes, books, his guitar, and a few other personal items. The act had confused Alfred. How long was he expected to stay down here? And for what? Except for the incident with the Italian boy, nobody had entered the basement.

Alfred had perched himself on the stairs, staring under the crack in the door. He had noticed that the lock was not of a particularly high quality, but he had no tools to pick it anyway, not that he was any sort of particularly skilled lock picker. But, even if Alfred was a practiced lock picker, he seemed to constantly have a guard on hand who would stop him instantly.

"Ludwig, you are relieved." Alfred's heart skipped a beat as he snapped out of his daydream. He squinted under the slit, noticing a pair of boots that he had not seen before. The boots were smaller than his German guard's, which meant that the man might be smaller and easier to deal with if Alfred was able to attempt an escape.

"Vash."

"He is in there?"

"Ja... he has been lurking by the door all afternoon." This caught Alfred off guard. How did he know? Alfred was sure he had been quiet. He looked around the room, searching for anything that looked like a video camera, but he could see nothing. A hidden camera then?

The man named Vash seemed to scoff, and Alfred could hear the cock of a gun.

"He will not get past me."

"Is... a gun... necessary? He is just a human boy. Much more fragile than I expected."

"It is not for him. It is for the others who will try to come for him."

"Ja..." Alfred could hear the chair skid a bit as Ludwig stood. "I leave it to you then." Heavy stomps of what Alfred recognized as Ludwig's boots grew more distant.

The new guard moved to the side where Ludwig had been sitting. Alfred pressed his cupped ear against the door, trying to hear better. Suddenly, Vash kicked the door. Alfred gasped, jumping back, holding onto the rough wooden railing so that he didn't fall down the stairs. Alfred hissed and banged on the door in retaliation.

"This is illegal! You can't do this! I have rights!" Alfred yelled through the door, but only received a humored snort as a reply.

Alfred sulked back into the basement. He flipped on the television, muting the sound, flipping through the channels. Alfred found the weather channel, and melted into the couch. Even if he was cut off from the outside world, he could at least keep track of time. After waiting for the commercials to finish, he watched as the local weather came on. Monday, 6:48 pm. Alfred's mood sunk. How long had he been here? He had visited Mattie at home on Saturday, the same day he met Ivan. Which meant, an entire day had gone by without Alfred even realizing it.

How long would it be before anyone realized Alfred was missing? A couple days? A week? Months? Alfred had few friends, and a distant relationship with his family, including Matt. He had no job, so no employers would notice his absence. No apartment, so no landlord to keep loose tabs. He could be killed, and nobody would even know about it for a long time. Alfred reached for his guitar and strummed a few chords absently.

The worst part of all of this: Alfred had done this to himself. _He_ had distanced his family. He was the one who had chosen to live his life the way he did. He had his whole life planned out. He was going to go to school with Mattie. They would share an apartment together. He would major in Archeology, travel the world, and maybe settle down with a beautiful woman and have two and a half children. The American Dream. So, why had he given everything up? For what?

Alfred didn't want to think about it anymore.

. . . . . .

The small kitchenette consisted of a sink, a microwave, a small refrigerator and a few cabinets that held some dishes and silverware, as well as food. He browsed through the refrigerator, regretting that he had let the spaghetti that the Italian kid had brought earlier go to waste. In retrospect, it had looked and smelled delicious, but Alfred had thrown it out in anger. So instead, he pulled out the milk, deciding on cereal. He balked at the kinds of cereal that his captors had left him: all healthy, boring, and expensive. And, for that matter, all the food that seemed to be provided for him was of decent quality. Why hadn't they just left him ramen and bread and called it good?

Alfred sat at the table, eating his cereal. He managed to eat through half a box, filling his stomach. He hadn't eaten in a while, and it hadn't helped that he was still sick from the hangover. He numbly watched the television, feeling more miserable as the moments passed. He turned his attention back to the cereal box, noting that 'adult' cereal boxes were boring to look at. He shook the box, trying to determine by sound how much was left. What would happen if Alfred ran out of food? Would they let him starve? Would they buy him more? And just how long was he seriously expected to stay down here?

Alfred blinked, staring at the cereal box in his hand.

That was it! It was perfect! Alfred didn't need fancy lock breaking tools to get past the door. There was an even faster, easier way of doing it, and he had everything he needed in front of him, he hoped.

Alfred's kidnappers had apparently taken his wallet away, so Alfred searched around the room again, keeping his eyes open for anything similar to a credit card or a driver's license. The door had a wooden stop guard so he couldn't just use a butter knife or something along that line. He needed something flexible, hard and thin.

The milk container probably would have worked, Alfred thought, but he had no scissors or sharp knife to cut it. Alfred ran his fingers up and down the cereal box. No, the cardboard was probably not strong enough. If it bent trying to get it around the guard, then it would be useless. But, perhaps it was worth trying. If it didn't work, then he could try to figure something else out.

. . . . . . .

If Alfred was being watched, he didn't want his captors to catch onto what he was doing. With the main light off, the basement was almost unbearably dark except for the halo that illuminated through the door's cracks.

Alfred blindly crept his way across the basement and up the stairs. He held his breath, listening. There was at least one person by the door, but it was impossible to tell who.

He shimmied the piece of packaging into the space between the door and door frame, trying to hit the lock at an angle. If he could position it just right, the piece of cardboard would catch onto the slope of the lock, pushing the lock back into the door, but instead, he found that the cardboard bent under the force. Every second of trying to sneak past the door made noise that someone could hear. He gently pulled the piece of cardboard out and sat, trying not to let his heart beat itself out of his chest.

Although he couldn't really see with the room being pitch black, he traced his fingers over the piece of cardboard. Definitely bent. If he really thought about it, he didn't honestly expect the cardboard to work, but he had considered it a chance worth taking. Would he have to restart? Find something else? The failure was disheartening, but Alfred, impatient as always, wasn't going to give up so easily. He rotated the piece of cardboard over 90 degrees figuring that the bend would actually reinforce the strength. The barely makeshift tool was slid in again.

The wooden chair on the opposite side of the door scraped against the floor. Someone was standing up. They must have heard him.

Shit.

Alfred pulled back, grabbing his guitar as he stood. The door jerked open and Alfred, who was standing two steps down, stood face to face with a shorter blonde man.

"What the hell?" The man, who Alfred recognized as Vash by his voice, squinted his eyes trying to see into the black basement. Alfred, without thinking, swung his guitar up, smashing Vash in the face. Vash dropped to the floor, unconscious.

"Fuck!" Alfred dove down to the floor and reached out a hand to check Vash's pulse. Still alive, but with a bloody nose to show for it.

_OhShitOhShitOhShitOhShitOhSh it._ Alfred looked around frantically, biting the inside of his cheek. What had he done? Would this guy die? Alfred had been in fights, but he'd never actually knocked someone out, and he didn't know the first thing about first aid or any of that nonsense.

For such a little body, Vash had a heavy, dead weight. Alfred dragged Vash into the still darkened basement and propped him against the wall so his head was leaning forward. A brief moment flashed by where Alfred considered staying until the little angry man woke (so that Alfred could be sure he was okay)... but it was a very fleeting thought, as Alfred imagined what Vash's temper would be like when he woke. Alfred grabbed his unbroken guitar and the bag full of his belongings and shut the basement door behind him, locking Vash in.

If someone had heard the brief encounter between himself and Vash, they would have been there to apprehend Alfred by now. Contrary to Alfred's paranoia, however, it seemed as if he was in the clear. He tiptoed into the hallway, sticking close to the walls. Alfred could see the front door at the end of the hall, but there was still one obstacle before that. Between Alfred and the front door, the wall opened up into a living room on the right. He stopped just short of the clearing and listened. He heard nothing.

Alfred could chance running across the gap, but what if someone was in the living room? Then again, Alfred reasoned, he couldn't stay here all day _thinking_ about it.

Alfred slowly poked his head around the wall, peering into the living room. After seeing nothing at first glance, he gained more confidence to poke his head out again, this time, viewing the more of the living room that he hadn't seen in his first peek.

Ivan.

Before Alfred could catch his mistake and move out of sight, Ivan looked up, blinked, and reached a hand up to pull his ear buds out.

"Ah... you escaped." He said flatly, but a hint of surprise showed on his face.

"Ivan," Alfred glowered. "I was worried about you."

"That is thoughtful. As you can see, I am fine."

"What's going on? Why did you guys lock me in that basement?"

Ivan rested his crochet project on his lap, staring at Alfred.

"Well, I kidnapped you. I thought that it obvious..." Ivan raising an eyebrow. "...after other night..."

"I don't remember the other night."

"Ahh..." Ivan smiled hesitantly. "That is probably for best."

"Where is my dog and my van?" Alfred demanded. Ivan set his craft project to the side.

"How did you get out?"

"Where is my dog and van?" Alfred pronounced each word, growing more agitated.

"Sit. We talk."

"No!" Alfred clenched his fists. "I'm getting the fuck out of here. I won't call the police, but don't come near me or my family again."

"No, no... you are a welcome guest here. Did you say that you not like living in van? Here you can keep warm and will never go hungry."

"You're a fucking psycho. All of you. You and that crazy British guy-"

"Arthur." Ivan smiled. "That is what we call him."

"Oh fantastic. You two nut jobs know each other. Why does that not surprise me?" Alfred took a few steps back as Ivan stood.

"You can not leave, Alfred." Alfred had heard enough. He dropped his bag of clothes and bolted to the front door, trying to unlock it in a frenzy, but just as he opened it up, a large hand shut it closed again.

Alfred stood frozen, pressed between Ivan and the door, a chill overtaking his spine. He wanted to fight his way out of the house, and he screamed at his brain to take action, but his body would not listen.

"Do you know how hard it was being to capture you?" Ivan asked, his voice even, but low. When Alfred didn't respond, he continued. "Two weeks I follow you. I thought would be easy because you live in van. But that English pig was there, every night, by your van, stopping me from getting close." Alfred could feel Ivan's glare pierce the back of his head. "Or, if not him, that Japanese dog ally of his." The more Ivan became visibly irritated, the more Alfred could feel himself shrink. "Finally, I caught you, and it was so easy. Like offering candy to baby." Ivan's hand that held the door shut trailed down until it lingered over the locks. "You," Ivan relocked the door. "You will remain here, as my most welcome guest until this is over."

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but Ivan grabbed his face and spun Alfred around to look up at him.

"And-" he frowned. "You will be thankful that I am so generous."

. . . . . .

Three more days had passed, and Alfred was still trapped in the basement. His captors had fitted the door with new locks, ones that Alfred could not get past. He had flipped through the local news channels, hoping that he'd see some sort of news about his disappearance, but there had been nothing. Nobody cared about him. The swelling in Alfred's wrist had gone down, but a lonely pain had risen in his chest instead.

What was worse yet, Alfred still had no clue why he had been kidnapped to begin with. As long as Alfred wasn't attempting escape, his kidnappers seemed content to just let Alfred do as he pleased. Interaction was kept at a minimal. Alfred had guessed that he had around 4 different guards. The Italian boy, Feliciano, as Alfred had finally learned, only came around when Ludwig was guarding the door.

Alfred hadn't necessarily given up hope on escape, but he didn't actively pursue it anymore. He worried about Tony, but Ivan had reassured him that Tony was fine, and although Ivan was not Alfred's favorite person at the moment, he clung onto Ivan's promise, not wanting to think of the alternative.

Why had Ludwig referred to Alfred as a 'human boy'. Alfred, bored, ran through different possibilities.

But, beyond that, the man named Vash seemed convinced that others would come for Alfred. Who? What did they want with _him_. Why would they bother? Was this all some kind of cruel, sick joke?

A week had gone by, according to the television. He had started sleeping away most of the day.

His ears picked up on a soft scraping noise. What were they doing up there? The noise continued for around half an hour, and Alfred grew more irritated with every passing minute. He absently reached around for the remote, turning the 'mute' off.

The news caster droned on about international politics. Europe was in a crisis. America was in a crisis. The moon was in a crisis. Whatever. Alfred didn't care. _He_ was in a crisis. Why did nobody care about that?

The scraping noise got louder, but the sound seemed to be coming from a specific spot now. The wall? Alfred, curious, set the remote aside as he stood and then padded his way across the basement. He narrowed his eyes, moving his head close to the wall, trying to hear. The scraping noise was definitely coming from this spot.

Four fingers poked through the concrete wall, and Alfred tripped back, falling hard onto his behind. He stared, mouth open, as the fingers moved, pulling chunks of concrete out of the way. An eye looked through the hole, spotting Alfred. Then, two hands started to claw at the wall, breaking apart large chunks, until the hole was large enough for a man to crawl through.

And a man did crawl through. He carefully, and silently, slipped through the hole, standing straight as he stretched his back.

Alfred gaped at the blonde man with the green eyes. His stalker. Sir Creeper. 'Arthur', as Ivan had called him. The man looked Alfred up and down and sighed as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with fabric from his sleeve, leaving a smudge of dirt on his face.

"Thank God you're alright. I thought for sure..." For a moment, the man looked like he was going to burst into tears.

"I-it's _you._"

"Quite right. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get out of here."


	6. Chapter 6

"H-" Alfred began, staring at the dirtied man before him who had apparently just dug his way through concrete. Alfred could see no shovels, or for that matter, any tools. "How?" He forced out.

"I'll explain later." The man grabbed Alfred's injured wrist, causing Al to flinch. Arthur immediately released Alfred. "May I?" Alfred gave a half-shrug and held out his arm. The Brit rolled back Alfred's sleeve and examined the wrist. The man's eyes darkened. "It seems okay."

"Ummm," Alfred interrupted. "I think they have some sort of camera in this room or something."

"Indeed, we have, Alfred." The voice belonged to Ivan, who was stepping down the stairs. Another man was behind him, only watching. Alfred did not recognize the man, but assumed it to be one of his strange guards.

"Ivan." Arthur stepped between Alfred and Ivan, pulling out a gun and aiming at Ivan's chest. "You're human now. You and I both know this could well and good kill you."

"Am I human?" Ivan paused, smiling, holding up his hands. "Are you sure?"

Alfred noticed the British man flinch, but held the gun steady.

"This would hurt, regardless."

"Perhaps."

"That's enough. Alfred, we're leaving. Climb through the hole. I'll be right behind you."

"Alfred," Ivan called out. "Do not go with him. He is dangerous." Alfred froze, meeting Ivan's eyes.

"Alfred, ignore him. Look what they've done to your wrist. He could have bloody well broken it!"

"Ahh," Ivan lowered his arms to his side. "I did not do that."

"Alfred, get into the bloody hole." The British man's tone was more on edge than before. He stepped back, using his free arm to urge Alfred into the passageway.

"He is not going anywhere," Ivan said as he glanced behind his shoulder, nodding to the man standing above him. The stranger lifted his gun and quickly took aim.

The gunshot was deafening. As if Alfred was stuck in slow-motion, he could see the blood splatter from Arthur's chest. Arthur fell to his knees just in time for a second bullet to find his chest. Alfred stood, paralyzed, staring at the British man who laid on the floor, unmoving. Everything had happened in just a few seconds, but Alfred was rerunning the scene through his mind, over and over again. Did he really just witness what he think he did?

"Y-you killed him!" Alfred stammered forward.

Ivan quickly crossed the room and grabbed Alfred's upper arm. He pulled Alfred with him, heading toward the stairs. The man that Alfred had assumed to be one of his captors was holding the shotgun, still aimed and ready with Arthur as his target. But, Arthur was dead! Why keep aiming at a dead body? Alfred tried to jerk away, but Ivan's grasp only strengthened.

"You're murderers! You're fucking murderers!" Alfred screamed out, kicking at Ivan. Ivan growled and spun around, grabbing Alfred by the back of his neck, forcing his head to look in the direction of where Arthur's body lay.

"Does he look dead to you! ?" Ivan's grasp on Alfred's neck was iron-solid, and Alfred crumpled slightly beneath the painful force. But, something caught Alfred's attention.

Arthur was struggling to sit himself up. He was alive!

He was alive?

"Do you see?" Ivan's voice had lowered.

"I saw you guys shoot him. I saw him die." Did Arthur have some kind of bullet-proof vest? But... wait... the blood. Where had all of that come from if Arthur _had _been wearing some sort of protection?

"We did." Ivan signaled, and the man who stood guard atop the stairs pulled the trigger on the gun again. Alfred could feel his heart stop for just the brief moment. Blood splattered from Arthur's head, and Arthur fell back again, unmoving.

"This time, he should be down longer." The man lowered his gun, reaching into a pocket for more bullets. "Get out of here while you can."

Ivan nodded as he continued to drag the stunned Alfred along. Ivan rushed through the kitchen, saying nothing. They had reached the front door, where Alfred had made his previous escape attempt, but Ivan had suddenly stopped. Alfred stood silently, looking up as he saw the giant Russian growl and then slowly turn around. But, Ivan didn't look at Alfred. Instead, the white-haired man had focused his attention back toward the kitchen, glaring.

Alfred turned around, wanting to see what Ivan was looking at so intensely. A small man, all covered in black, except for his eyes, was staring back at Ivan and Alfred. He held a katana in his hand.

"Of course, you here too." Ivan grumbled, shoving Alfred into the wall. The Russian reached into his heavy trenchcoat and pulled out an old pipe, one he had obviously been hiding, knowing there would be conflict with Arthur there. "Why did you not just kill me when I had back turned? Is that not how you do things?"

"We are not enemies." The man cooly replied with a thick Japanese accent. 'I have no wish to hurt you."

"I will not let you take everything away from me!" Ivan roared. His hand shook as he gripped the pipe. "I could have killed him!" Ivan spat out as he pointed the pipe at Alfred who stood frozen, unable to comprehend what was happening. "I didn't... because I am not monster!" Ivan lunged forward, swinging the pipe with his full force at the man-in-black's head. The man, however, easily jumped back in time, taking the fight into the kitchen.

Alfred stood, unable to decide his next move. The two had moved their fight into another room, and Alfred was alone, by the front door. Should he just go?

Hell yes.

Alfred's instincts had taken over as he quickly unlocked the front door. He whipped the door open, and took his first step out of the house. The bitter cold of winter stung his bare and exposed skin. He was in the middle of a goddamned suburb! A few scattered houses with Christmas lights that had been left up past their time dotted the street. A soft powder snow flitted through the early morning air, and Alfred could hear nothing but his own racing heart.

Where would he go now? Should he bang on one of the neighbor's doors? But, Alfred thought, it could be dangerous to get others involved with this group of crazies. Well, he'd have to do something. Alfred had no coat, no car... and it was probably 20 degrees outside. He wouldn't last long if he didn't move fast.

The front door creaked opened behind Alfred. Fuck! Alfred had stalled too long, and how he dreaded to find out who was standing right behind him.

"This is our chance, Alfred." Arthur staggered down the stairs, grabbing Alfred's hand.

"You-"

"Yes, yes... I'll explain everything later. We don't have much time. Come along." The man quickly hobbled forward, leaving behind a faint trail of blood in the pristine snow.

Alfred obeyed. At least he was going somewhere. He couldn't even feel his fingers or face anymore.

"The British man halted suddenly, and Alfred ran into his back, unable to stop as quickly.

"I thought you had more sense than this." The Brit said. At first, Alfred thought he was talking to him, but before he could reply, he heard another voice.

"Nein. You are the one with no sense." Alfred recognized the voice as Ludwig. Alfred could see that Ludwig was leaning rigidly on a black car, his arms crossed, a sour look on his face.

"I don't get it. You were healthy and thriving. Some of the others I understand... but you..."

"It is not just that." Ludwig stood up straight, letting his arms fall to his side.

"Then what? Because I don't get it. You've all gone daft!"

"We have human lives now. Some of us are married and have children. And lovers..." Ludwig paused, "We are free to do vhat we please."

"It isn't natural."

"The boy, Alfred, doesn't remember anything at all. The universe is reshaping itself. It vill _become_ the natural way."

"Get out of my way. We're leaving."

"What you propose to do vill kill all of us."

"No, I'm going to fix this mess!"

"I see it is vorthless to discuss this any further." Ludwig did not move.

"Fine then. It seems that way." The Brit stepped forward, clenching his fists. Ludwig followed suit. Ludwig swung first, but the other easily dodged and hit Ludwig in the stomach, followed by a swift chop at the base of Ludwig's neck. The German fell, unconscious, onto the icy ground. "Fool." The Brit shook his head as he pulled out the car keys from of his pocket. "Alfred, get in." He unlocked the doors, and climbed into the driver's side.

Alfred stepped around the unconscious Ludwig and got into the passenger side of the car. No sooner than Alfred had shut the door, the car had sped off.

The two drove in silence for an agonizing 10 minutes before the British man rolled the car to a stop.

"Come on, we're switching cars." He got out of the car, followed by Alfred. He unlocked the new car, tossed the old keys into a snowy field nearby, and got in. Within a matter of a minute, the two were on the road, but heading in another direction.

"It will be harder for them to track us..." The man broke the silence, but Alfred didn't acknowledged that he heard. His mind was racing a million miles per hour. He had a million questions he wanted answered, but understood so little of what was going on, he could even imagine where to start.

"Can we play some music or something?" Alfred asked, wanting desperately to break the tension.

"Alright." The man fidgeted around with the dials before finally turning the radio on. He switched the station to classical. It wasn't quite what Alfred had meant, but it was better than nothing. Arthur kept one bloodied hand on the steering wheel, while he searched one of his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. Finally freeing one, and cracking the window on his side, he lit the cigarette, taking a long drag. Alfred coughed, unable to bear with the smoke. The man sighed, offered a quick apology, and squashed the cigarette into the tray.

"What about your friend?" Alfred asked as he stared out the car windows at the passing trees.

"He'll be fine. It's thanks to him that we both made it out."

"Mmmm." Alfred mumbled, still staring out the window. He couldn't stand to look at Arthur who was caked in a mixture of dirt and blood. There was no sign of the bullet that had pierced through the Brit's skull... but whenever Alfred thought about it, his mind went into a panicked frenzy trying to piece together pieces of a puzzle that didn't belong in the same set, or even on this planet.

After what seemed like ages of awkward silence, the British man pulled the car into a motel parking lot. There was nothing remarkable about the motel that Alfred had noted. The man turned the car's ignition off, and turned to face Alfred.

"I'll answer all your questions, but I need you to cooperate with me."

Cooperate. That was the word that Ivan had originally used. In all this time, Alfred was nothing but a ball being kicked back and forth, but he had no idea what game was being played. As Alfred saw it, he didn't have much choice. He needed answers, and this man was willing to give them to him. Alfred would stick around until his questions were answered, figure out where he was, and then take off. He needed to get back to the city, to Tony, and to Matthew. Matthew... was he caught up in this whole disaster? Ivan had mentioned Matt before. And, what about Tony? What had Ivan done to him?

Alfred followed the man to his room, cautiously peeking inside the room before he stepped in. The man locked the door behind them. Alfred sat down on the only cushioned chair provided, sucking his arms close to his body, uneasy.

The man zipped his red jumpsuit down to his stomach, peeling the fabric off so that the top of the suit fell about his waste. He only had a thin undershirt on. Alfred looked away, uncomfortable.

"Just a moment. I have to clean up just a bit." The man disappeared into the bathroom.

Alfred used the time to look around the room for any answers. There were a lot of bags and equipment neatly scattered around, as well as several laptops. As he was about to open a dresser drawer, he heard a cough from where the bathroom was. The man was leaning against the wall, now dressed in a tight t-shirt and loose, gray pants. His hands and face were cleaned of the dirt and blood. The man was staring at Alfred with an unreadable expression. Alfred pulled his hand away from the dresser.

"I know this must all seem strange to you." The man pushed himself off the wall and strolled across the room. He pulled open the drawer that Alfred had been caught trying to snoop into and pulled out a jar of loose tea.

"Who the hell are you people?" Alfred watched as the man poured some filtered water into the coffee pot.

"I bet you're hungry. Of course you are... you're always hungry." The man dismissed Alfred's question as he quickly fumbled around the room, pulling out snacks. "You look as if you've lost a lot of weight."

"Answer my question!" Alfred pounded his fist onto the table, rattling the glass coffee pot and mugs.

Arthur sighed, dropping a package of snacks onto the table.

"Sit down, Alfred."

Alfred glared at the man as he rigidly sat on the desk chair. Arthur sat down on the bed.

"Alfred, do you know who I am?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have fucking asked you, would I?"

"No," Arthur frowned, trying to keep his composure. "Maybe I'm not asking the correct question." Arthur sighed. "Do you know _what_ I am?"

_What _Arthur was? Was he implying that he was not human? That would confirm a lot of what Alfred had witnessed and heard of the course of the last couple week. Come to think of it...

"You're..."

"Yes?" Arthur's eyes widened, expectantly.

"...a vampire."

Arthur's mouth fell open. The two stared at each other for a few moments before Arthur broke out into a laughter.

"What's so funny?" Alfred's cheeks burned red. "It makes sense! You're super-strong and fast and you heal quickly after getting hurt bad, plus I've never seen you out during the day!"

"You git... I'm not a vampire." Arthur's laughter calmed. "God, it's been so long... I've missed this."

"Alright then, Arthur, what the fuck are you? Cuz' I have no clue, obviously."

Arthur took a deep breath as he locked eyes with Alfred.

"First, my name is _not_ Arthur." He seemed to straighten his posture as a proud look darkened his features. "My proper name is the ___United Kingdom__ of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_." The man softened his eyes. "But, you can call me England, just as you always have." The man raised a hand up to touch Alfred's face. "America, I will fix this. I promise."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**SURPRISE! Well, maybe not...  
**

**I struggled with how obvious I should make it in this chapter, but... it's a short chapter... and even if you guys guessed, it's still fun to have everything confirmed at the end. I know I'd get excited, but I'm also a mega-dork. XD  
**

**So, there ya' go... it's not an Alternate Universe at all... _or is it_? Bwahahaha. But, if you make any comments, let's keep this our little secret, alright? That way, it won't be spoiled for anyone who reads the comments first before they decide to read the actual story. But, I encourage any comments. You guys have been awesome, sticking with me this far!**


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